The Spaniards Inn, north London, pub review

Our guide to the best British pubs. This week: The Spaniards Inn, north London

There aren't many pubs which can claim to be both literary landmarks and geographical obstacles, but The Spaniards Inn is an exception.

Not only has it featured in both Charles Dickens's The Pickwick Papers and Bram Stoker's Dracula, but for many a decade, the building has caused traffic between Hampstead and Highgate to go all single file.

In less heritage-conscious parts of the capital, the council would long ago have removed the pointy bit of pub that protrudes into the road, as well as demolishing the redundant toll house opposite. But this is hill-and-history-friendly Hampstead, where the idea of eradicating something old and inconvenient is as unthinkable as high-rises on the Heath.

Recently, locals have been made anxious by the announcement that the Spaniards (built 1585) was due for refurbishment, which in these parts is seen as the architectural equivalent of a lobotomy.

The good news, though, is that the work took just five days, and you'd hardly know the difference. Go up to the first-floor dining room, and the floor and ceiling still slope in reassuringly opposite directions.

On the ground floor, too, the walls are still wood-panelled, and the high-backed pub pews still invest the interior with the air of old-fashioned intrigue. Rather more 21st century is the way in which there are "Reserved" signs on most of the tables, and you have to wait for your food order to be taken by young men in black uniforms, pushing the establishment not just over the line that separates pub from gastropub, but over the even more significant gap between drop-in boozer and book-in-advance bistro.

Mind you, this is a place which is used to laying down the law. The gardens at the back can pack in 300 people on hot days, when it's not so much a matter of customer care as crowd control. And don't forget the dog-washing machine in the car park, for the sprucing-up of canines whose coats have become a little unkempt while on walkies.

Of course, this is known for being a part of the world where the humans are well-heeled and the four-pawed rather pampered. Which explains why beer is £4 a pint: tasty Adnams Lighthouse at 3.5 per cent abv, and dark, caramelly Urban Dusk, at 4.6 per cent, brewed by Redemption London. And why the food is prettily presented, but pricey, too: £14 for a cheeseburger, and £5 for a Scotch egg, albeit hot and crunchy on the outside, and beautifully warm and yokey in the middle.

Cross the road, and you've got lord-of-the-manor views down over the capital. When you come for a drink here, you're not just on high ground, you're genuinely upmarket.